Tastes Like Home
by Icebicycle
Summary: Anna runs away from home and her incestuous feelings for Elsa by joining her country's mob syndicate as a freelance assassin in the U.S. Three years of separation later, Anna comes to her alias residence to find that her roommate let her sister come right on in. Warning: Elsanna Smut Oneshot. Author cannot speak Ukrainian only English. Send complaints to Google Translate.


My name is Anna. I have allowed myself many different surnames in my line of work, but I will always respond to Anna. When I came home yesterday, my first thought entering was " _Something smells amazing_." My mouth instantly watered and all intentions of ordering a pizza delivery had flit from my mind. However, the recognition of the dish was immediately followed by complete horror. Because that delicious scent had been borscht and our mother only gave the recipe to Elsa.

I had stood there in the doorway of my apartment, not sure if I should slam the thing shut in an attempt to intimidate her or leave it open so that I could bolt. " _But that borscht smells so good_." There are few occupations more hazardous than an assassin, but if looks could kill then being Elsa Tarasova's little sister was one of them.

She wasn't talking, but I could hear my roommate's voice describing her chore wheel in detail. That was good, maybe she'd distract the blonde long enough that I could snag my getaway backpack from the hall closet. After I swallowed hard, I did close the door gently and palmed the glock on my right hip for comfort. _I am the shadows. I am a fly on a wall. No one can see me._

Just before Rapunzel joyously announced: "Finally, you're home! You never told me you had a _sister_!" I turned my head to see that Rapunzel had not heard but had seen me as I passed a tight opening between the entry way and the kitchenette. Behind her and standing at the stove was a woman with platinum hair and curves to die for who turned around to face me. Sporting a white apron with more than a few blotchy red beet stains, she had her hair braided back from her gorgeous face and draped over her left shoulder. For a moment, it was like I was a kid, again- coming home from school. The same image I had seen and appreciated for years in my childhood, except Elsa had only become more beautiful and a greater risk for my heart to burst an artery. My blonde roommate continued: "She's a Godsend, I let her in and she just immediately started cleaning the place spotless. Now she's even cooking!"

I took a nice, deep breath of that stew. Elsa had found me, here in America. She had crossed a few continents, then, I realized. It had been three years and twelve aliases since I had last seen Elsa. Through her window, on Christmas. I had left her three months earlier with a letter unloading everything. My illicit feelings for her, my aspirations for high ranks in the government, and my regret that she couldn't have someone better than me as a little sister; she really did deserve better. Someone who could love her platonically and not have the means and desire to slaughter every boyfriend she brought home. Not that Elsa had ever left the house long enough to find one. Anytime they went to mass on Sunday, though, inevitably suitors would find her. Elsa would smile politely- especially at Kristoff, the deer herder- but none of them had the gall to ask her out in the cathedral, thank God.

Right then, though, in my kitchen, she made that same tight and polite smile before she turned back around to stir the large pot with a ladle. Her voice was a soft breeze through hollow wind chimes. "Please."

I could have denied her. I could have left, again, but without a trace this time.

Then Rapunzel spoke up, once more. "Awwwwwww, bonding sister times! I'll leave you two alone to catch up. I wanted to stay the night at Flynn's anyway; I practically _live_ with him by now." Rapunzel got up to leave, kissed me on my forehead, did a finger-wave to my still-standing sister, "Thanks again for the soup!" and she left.

So I sat down in Rapunzel's place. For the first time in a long time, I shut my eyes without the intent of going to sleep. I breathed the scent of life. An unsmiling but wholesome way to live. A way in which every day that ended always felt fulfilled rather than finally over. I heard a bowl get set down in front of me, under my nose the warmth wafted and I opened my eyes to see blood red borscht I had been waiting for yet never expected to see ever again. I kept waiting, too, until Elsa's hand came back to my field of vision and dolloped a large spoonful of sour cream right on top. She uses magic to make it perfectly centered and circular, I swear. "Dyakuyu," I told her.

She left the spoon she had used next to my bowl on the table and answered "Proshu," as she sprinkled the dill. Even then, I waited. I didn't move a muscle until she returned with her own bowl.

The apartment's dinner table only had two chairs. She had never sat across from me, before, and the years did not make a difference. She dragged the chair from where it was to the same side of the table as me. I had to scoot my own chair to make room for her at my left.

Her back was straight – proper as always- while mine was hunched, but we both ate. God, she always was such a good cook. Ravenous, I couldn't stop eating that borscht. Not even to breathe. Before I even thought about it, the oven timer went off and Elsa dabbed her mouth with a napkin to get up. She went to strain the pierogis she had been boiling and then she brought them over to me. She left the bowl of sour cream between us and I became the same glutton I was before I lost all that baby fat in the home country. Just shoveled that sour cream out of the bowl with the pierogi and straight into my mouth.

She ate slow and steady, but I was an animal let loose on those morsels. My name should have been Misha after the bear noises I made, groaning in sweet satisfaction. Elsa's spoon paused half way to her mouth and I glanced her way without stopping. She did express herself with one perked eyebrow, but I kept eating. I had waited long enough, after all. At that point, there was no hope in stopping me.

I wanted to ask her how she had found me, but it was probably through the mafia. I wanted to ask her how she could afford to get to me, but she probably saved all of the money I sent to her. I wanted to ask her why she searched for me, but she probably wouldn't tell me until she was ready. Ukrainians don't speak as often as Americans. Or any other nation I've visited, really. Even among her own people, Elsa was always considered mute.

Ukrainians also don't talk during a meal because it is insulting to the chef. God forbid anyone speak when Elsa's food is in front of them. I'd shoot them, myself.

Finished with my pierogis, I had drained my borscht to the dregs. I even resorted to tipping the bowl up and slurped the remnants. I settled back and licked my lips. She had only eaten a fraction of what she had fed me, so she had been done for a while. I noticed too late that she was probably only watching me inhale her cooking. It technically was my house, but she was still the head of our family; by giving me so much, it was a sign of love and respect. So much more than I deserved. I took a deep breath and looked expectantly at her. She sure as hell wasn't going to start the conversation, but a girl can dream.

I buckled first, of course. "Malina?" The name of the local crime syndicate that was aware of my business as well as the family in charge of smuggling immigrants.

Elsa answered, "Tak, vedmid," which meant yes and she also called me a bear.

I nodded. A lot of crime organizations- not just from my native land- called me Bear Cub, as I look cute and cuddly but I am quite very deadly, indeed. It's an insult, but I'll take it for the publicity. It's kind of a perk for the hiring team if their target is killed by someone considered weak. The insult to fatal injury means I can actually charge more for a going-rate.

My cell vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket. Rapunzel texted that she made it to Flynn's and I could let Elsa sleep in her room. I swallowed. That probably wasn't happening. Elsa didn't like other people. Ever. Not their smells, not their voices, not their… them. She loved me and that was it. She liked her own things about her, and I had been one of them. It was what had made it so difficult to leave her, despite how I loved her. With tato and mama dead, I was all she had. She would rather sleep on the ground in the woods in the winter than in someone else's warm bed. Elsa would probably be taking the couch.

But she got up and held her hand out to me. I looked at the clock and it was nine at night, but I let her lead the way to my room. I knew my face was puzzled when she took off her top and jeans, climbing into my bed in just her underwear. Elsa didn't see it as she kept her back to me. The covers were flipped back and she climbed onto the sheets and just waited for me. I turned to leave but with my hand on the doorknob and a sound of rustled blankets, her hands came around my torso and she fell back into the bed, dragging me down with her.

She started tugging the work shirt off of my neck, and I finally obliged. I guessed I had been forgiven, then, and my heart filled with relief for a moment. As I started with my pants, however, I knew I would eventually have to kick her out. It really had been torture, living under the same roof. "Ya tebe lyublyu," I told her, not entirely dishonest. But there have always been two ways to say "I love you."

What I had been thinking, and had felt deep inside for so fucking long I couldn't take it and I had to leave her, I thought I heard her say before she kissed the back of my neck.

I couldn't believe my ears, so I turned and faced her. I locked my sight with my sister's pristine blue irises. Either I needed her to repeat those words or I had to commit myself to an insane asylum. My hands came up and I cupped her cheeks, I focused on her lips. "Povtory," I demanded.

Elsa brought her hand that had been under the pillow up to press my hand harder against her cheek. She turned her face, closed her eyes and kissed down on my palm before looking back up at me. "Ya tebe kohayu." She darted forward and pressed her lips to mine.

God help me, but I whined. I shut my eyes tight because if I was going mad, I'm glad the hallucination was such a dream instead of a nightmare. I covered my body over hers and pressed my lips harder into hers, my tongue licking the crease of her mouth. She let me in, hesitantly, so I didn't press without introduction. I glazed my tongue along her lower lip and shared air with her before I pulled away and looked down on her. Her eyes shot open just after mine had and when they darkened, I thought I was in trouble for going too far too soon. But she just grabbed the back of my head and brought my mouth back down to hers, her own tongue repeating what mine had earlier.

Testing the waters, because I'm a fucking glutton for Elsa, always wanting more, my hands roamed down past ribs and thin waist, to flared hips. I flexed my fingers and finally dug into panty-clad ass. Like flipping a switch to an electric door, her legs opened and Elsa linked the limbs around my hips. She grinded herself against my stomach and fuck me, those panties were wet. Fuck, they were wet. Wet for me. There was no way it had been real. I had to be dreaming, but the dream went on and on. She even opted out of kissing me for biting my shoulder and that was hotter than anything my imagination usually conjured up.

"Don't leave me ever again," she said as her own hand went between my legs, her arm between our torsos and our breasts pressed tight against each other's. Oh, she found how slick she had made me, then. I was ashamed, embarrassed, but so needed her to do more to me, I didn't even notice she was speaking in English. "I can't live without you, Anna." She pushed two fingers into me, her thumb rolled against my clit and I that could not have been real because my sister could not know how to make love to a woman.

I told her in our language, "You are my air. You left me breathless. I died without having you," I lifted my hips and brought them back down, over and over, "I have served my purgatory in reaping the lives of sinners and now I'm in heaven." Angling myself, I pushed the front of myself harder, that bundle of nerves tighter against her thumb as the words tumbled from my lips. I tilted them into her sweet-smelling neck, "I'm in your arms. I'm in heaven, at long last." I licked her then and kissed her there where her heart was beating. I tasted her and reveled in the soft skin beneath me and her sure fingers pushing within me.

Her thumb began to swirl in circles, slow and disregarding my hurried pushing for her to increase the speed. Finally, my head dropped- rested fully in the creased of her shoulder as she touched me into her own pace, which did thankfully gradiate to the point my thrusts could quicken. My fingers found the lip to Elsa's bra, a simple white thing, and slipped it up past stiff peaks of thankfully aroused and pink nipples. My tongue teased her left while my left hand pinched her right. Rewarded by a whimper, I felt encouraged enough to take my right hand and skim underneath her panties to her sex. Warm, weeping, opening and tightening at instant intrusion by my fingers. Between Elsa's legs was where I wanted to live eternally.

I stopped all other ministrations and removed her hand from my own sex, placing her digits into my mouth and tasting myself on her fingers, sucking them. I needed to for the comparison I was about to make. I could hear her denying me and I could feel her legs beginning to close but again, I'm a glutton for Elsa. Always, always wanting more and more. The more she gives, the more I take and this is just another one of those things I took. I pushed her legs apart and started mouthing myself deep into her pussy, tongue burrowing and licking up. I flattened the tongue against her clit as I slid my pointing tip down and into her, past dripping lips. She moaned. My inaudible ladylike sibling, with pleasure, began to grunt as she began to grind herself into my face. My eyes tilted up as I bobbed my head quicker and quicker, greeted by the sight of her pinching herself with a contorted face as she struggled towards completion. My hands elevated her hips to grant me better access and as I felt her tighten around my tongue, I retracted to immediately flutter it on her clit, rolling it like an "r". She squeaked, cute and petite, but she fell apart silently, shivering violently, and became limp as a rag doll.

Unfortunately, I had yet to come. Her being spent, I simply started stroking my own clit, lightly dipping into my very productive self for lubrication, and got to work. I timed myself to her breathing, at first, but that slowed down as she fell asleep. I shut my eyes and imagined plowing into her with a phallus. A light blue little monster, stretching Elsa wide with it; I came almost ten seconds into thinking about that while I was sucking on my fingers still coated in Elsa's sweet juices.

But this morning when I woke up, she was not in the bed with me. I had assumed the dream had been no more than that when I had taken my shower but… when I went to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee, Elsa was sitting at the table. A table which was set with two plates side by side covered in scrambled eggs, onions, cheese, and bacon. She sat down where she had the night before, not making eye contact with me. My plate piled with more eggs than hers, I realized exactly what my place is, in her life. Touched, I knew I couldn't emote. That wouldn't honor her respect in the right way.

Instead, I sat down next to her and began to eat, so she could, too.

After breakfast, I texted Rapunzel she would only need to pay a third of the rent, this month. She replied about how excited she was to try "shashlyk".

 _Author's Notes to Self Before Publishing:_

Why did I write this?

 _I absolutely love assassin characters. Not the serial killers so much as the trained killers whose art medium is death. Maybe that's why I like Malthazar Lord of Shadow's In the service of the Queen so much. You guys should check that out, it isn't Icest but you name it, it's great. The writing, the plot, the flow of it all is just fantastic. But the character details are what I'm into, and for those of you who noticed the difference in perspectives of this oneshot and my ongoing Hot Collars and Cold Shoulders, these characters don't seem as developed but they absolutely are- there just aren't any complications. __In this fic, the sisters are sisters, the universe is more realistic, and the dialogue has greater depth._

Why Ukrainian?

 _I'm fascinated with Ukrainian culture; from deep-seeded religious beliefs to complete disregard for caring about others' opinions, Ukrainians rarely give two fucks about anything. So when they_ do _care, they_ really _fucking care. The most popular person at a gathering isn't the handsomest or the funniest or the most talkative or the one who makes the most money, it's the tragedy story teller. It's the writer who can spin a yarn that makes a Ukrainian shed a tear. Ukrainians don't communicate much, yet they feel the most. Family means everything. That's insanely awesome, to me._

 _There's a head of household, the breadwinner, usually male, who is doted on. Family groups tend to stay as large as possible and since talking is not as important, time spent together is everything. Anna abandoning her sister to be alone was a horrible thing to do, but it was still better than living in the same house. She provided for Elsa because that's what the heads of household do. Despite Elsa being older, Anna had known she was making more income and the rich heritage she grew up in, everyone contributes to house and home. Even though she had never returned to Elsa, Elsa was still home._

 _By wanting to blend homosexual and incestuous traits into a fully-functioning Ukrainian-based relationship, I had to make it Anna as the person who abandoned and Elsa who remained until she couldn't stand being alone, anymore. At first, I wanted this to be the opposite. In Frozen, Elsa did leave so everyone would be safe from her. But rigorous control is in most Ukrainians. That stress of deliberately not thinking or acting on desires- they all have that. Anna is the weaker-willed and social one, the one who was more likely to head out into the world in search of escape through adventure._

Why didn't I write another chapter of HCCS instead?

 _I couldn't get it out of my head long enough to complete Chapter 8, but I do have a good chunk of it typed up. I'm sorry if readers do not like this oneshot, but I'm really proud of this and I put a lot of thought into it._


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